Dead Hearts: Lied About Death
by averynolan
Summary: What occurs when the birth of Beth doesn't happen as smoothly as the show had lead us to believe? Does Quinn survive? Will anyone be able to bring her back from this ordeal? There are two possible outcomes of this story. This is one of them.
1. Prologue

**Dead Hearts**

**Pairing: **Faberry with a side of Brittana.

**Authors Note:** Completely random idea that I am hoping turns into something fruitful. I really need a beta, so if you know of a good one please send them my way. I apologize for any grammatical or spelling mistakes that present themselves. I'm much more of a writer than an editor. My inspiration for this story is "The Five Ghosts" Album by Stars.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee.

**Summary:** (Season One Canon) What occurs when the birth of Beth doesn't happen as smoothly as the show had lead us to believe? Does Quinn survive? Will anyone be able to bring her back from this ordeal?

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"I just wanted someone to love me," you whispered.

Nurses rushed around your bed checking vitals, blood, and temperature. The doctor, a middle age woman with stressed out eyes sat between your withering legs as she pushed them farther apart. The stretch burned and you distinctly remembered that they didn't need to go that far anyway. You were stretched open to the world. Embarrassment would be the first thing on your mind if it didn't feel as if you were being splint into two.

"Two liters of AB Neg and call Dr. Rushmore stat. We need this baby out!" The doctor screamed to the nurses who were poking and prodding you. As they stalled, the doctor's face redden as her voice pieced your ears, "Now, dammit!"

The look of urgency and panic on all the faces surrounding you didn't go unnoticed. Your vision was becoming to get hazy, as if you were watching an old 70's flashback scene in a movie.

You didn't notice that your heart rate was slowly declining.

_Beat…Beat…Beat…Beat…_

It took more than enough energy to turn your head to the right. As you looked into the worried eyes of Mercedes Jones, you began to see the whole glee club appear around her. You knew they weren't here. In fact, you knew they were probably waiting patiently (or impatiently for one Miss Rachel Berry) in the Waiting Room. Funny, you don't remember taking any drugs to induce this façade of floating heads around Mercedes. It nearly made this scene comical. Nearly.

You felt her dark hand squeezing your sweaty, limp one. Wanting to squeeze back, you found yourself loss with not enough energy. Instead your eyes flickered to your mother's who stood right next to Mercedes.

"…someone to love…" You thought you where whispering it to your mother. Your lips moved ever so softly but you didn't realize that no sound was escaping them. No, you were much too weak for developing some kind of sound.

Your greenish hazel eyes were trained on your mother. The mother who had abandoned you so many months ago only to arrive at the time you needed your most. You tried your hardest to smile at her, to ease her worries, but it just didn't happen.

_Beat…Beat…Beat…_

Judy Fabray, your gorgeous mother, watched you. Her eyes swelled up with tears and the hand that wasn't calmingly stroking your hair was resting over her mouth. Her eyes were darting to your nearly closed ones to the dwindling monitors.

What was the matter? It seemed as if no one has seen a woman give birth.

You didn't understand. The urgency that was written across every face in the room concerned you. You have watched many movies about birth. You have prepared yourself to be a powerful woman letting her body go through this natural process. So, why in the hell was everyone in such a damn hurry?

All you knew was that there was going to be a baby girl in this world very soon. A precious, innocent, and even helpless baby girl who would be born any second. You can feel her head sliding through your body as the doctor sat at the foot of your bed, in between your legs, in panic. She was screaming to anyone around her, "Where the fuck is Dr. Rushmore!"

"…to love…" you whispered, suddenly hoping that when she got earthside that they would put her on your chest. You needed her there, her warm body to bring life back into your tired, sore, and dejected one. Your heart was slowing and you knew that if they only laid her on your chest that she would reteach you how to survive in this world. She would show you what it means to truly be a good mother.

You suddenly wanted her to feed from your body, bring all of the good parts of Quinn Fabray into her tiny one. She was made from you after all. You suddenly felt selfish, wanting only yourself to care for this tiny human being. Your eyes were the only eyes this little girl needed to stare into. "Screw the agency," you thought to yourself. "Screw their 'amazing' match." As your body was ripped apart, the only thing you wanted was for her to always be yours.

Your eyes began to search for Mercedes', your mother's, or even the soft hearted nurse who had massaged your back earlier. You needed to tell them your new founded revelation. You wanted them to know that this little girl, Beth Caroline, would be a Fabray.

Yet, your eyes only met blurred versions of the people who surrounded you. Your head was too heavy to turn to the other side and your eyes too tired to work. Your lips barely moved and you began to hear only the rush of blood trying to desperately reach your heart.

_Beat…Beat…_

You don't hear the heart monitor slow down. Your vision is too blurry to see the nurses pushing away Mercedes and your mother from your bedside. You don't see the thick tears flowing from both of their eyes. You don't notice the kind hearted nurse who once rubbed your back forcing air into your body, or another woman who ran an IV to a jack in your arms to force someone else's donated blood into your stream.

Most of all, you don't see the doctor wiggling her hands deep inside you trying so hard to pull out the tiny human. You don't realize you are too weak to push.

Your mom watches you from the back of the room. You hear the vibrations from her voice pleading, "Quinnie, my Quinnie, my little Lucylove. Please, please."

Mercedes is praying. For once the young girl is quiet.

The nurses frantically pump air into your limp body. It's pointless.

And your doctor? She finally pulls out your darling girl. The little one free from the cage of your dying uterus.

At this moment you realize that you are falling apart. The body that had grown this perfect little human has shattered to pieces and you begin to slip away into the darkness.

Not too long ago someone, a girl who had also been broke, told you to keep holding on. You want to scream and cry and beg for help. You want her to be here, at your side, to remind you to hold onto your life, to yourself.

Yet, you slip farther away.

Your eyes close the moment she begins to scream.

_Beat…_

"I just wanted somebody to love me," was the last thought that fell from your head.

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><p><strong>I am interested in knowing your thoughts. I have two ways that we could go: Quinn dies or Quinn lives. Either way we go, Faberry will be endgame. Also, again, I am currently in the look out for a beta or two.<strong>

**ANY thoughts are appreciated.**


	2. My Radio

**Chapter One**

**[Soundtrack of the Chapter: My Radio by Stars]**

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><p>The air in Lima, Ohio has been more stale than usual lately. It has been thicker, harder for you to properly breathe. You have noticed that you have been working much harder to breathe the air. The sun has not came out behind the gray dark clouds in over a year. It seems that all the residents of Lima have been much more down than usual.<p>

This has been going on for a while. Actually, from the first day you have awaken, you have noticed that the residents seem more gloomier than usual.

You have made these observations daily. You have noticed all of these things as you wait at the familiar intersection for the light at the crosswalk to turn white. In fact, you have noticed many things. Such as the moment you woke up in the hospital for the first time. The room was completely bare, the mattress was cold, and you laid there in one of your white cotton dresses.

You didn't know which day was which anymore. You barely knew who you were but that could never truly be forgotten or the last thing that happened before you passed out so long ago. You didn't know how long it has been or what exactly happened. You did know that the hospital was your home. You woke up here, every day.

It would seem that no one even cared enough to acknowledge you. The doctors refused to take the time to answer the questions that you ask. The nurses absolutely refused to tell you anything about Beth or her location. The other patients that walked the halls of the hospital like you did were the only ones who paid you any attention. Their sorrowful eyes too consumed by their own demons to actually stop and talk to you though. You understood that they had their own problems to stop and listen to your's.

So, instead, each day you have walked the same route in hope that you would find what you are searching for. You knew that answers were too far out of your grasp. Though, finding your mother, or Mercedes, or even that gentle nurse who rubbed your head seemed plausible. Right?

Each day was the same as the last, though. You didn't find anybody who would take the time to talk to you and the ones that even met your eyes seemed too lost within their own.

So, instead, you found yourself becoming more reliable on routine and hopeless. You would wake up every morning in your recovery room, 0606, and take your daily walk around the hospital. The nursery would be the only place you would actually stop. You wanted to see if any of the babies were Beth. Your heart inside your body ached because you knew absolutely nothing about your baby girl, not even her appearance.

Did she look like you?

Did she have your hazel eyes or Puck's dark hair?

Instead of any answers, you are only left with cooing babies who weren't your's reaching their little chubby arms to try and grasp you.

After walking the halls of the hospital, you take the 30 minute bus ride to the center of Lima. The streets are busy with the lunchtime rush but no one smiles at you or wishes you a good morning. You are okay with it.

As you walk down the road you pass a few familiar faces. You see a beautiful brunette haired woman who walked into the deli everyday. Her face seemed solemn, no expression except determination to get her sandwich and then get back to work in the 30 minutes she was allowed. Behind her walked a man, about her age, with a face filled with wanting and clothes that always seemed drenched. He saw you, you knew he did, but his want for this woman always prevented him from noticing anything else.

Then, as you walk down Main Street towards the school, you pass a woman who was always sitting on the curb. The woman always sat there and cried, looking at the road and shaking her head. You never wanted to disturb her, so you let her continue to cry.

And lastly there was the little boy who stood across the street of the high school. His long brown hair covered his eyes as he wailed for his mother. He never seemed to find her because he was always there the next day. Once, you tried to stop and help him but he screamed for you to get away. What else could you do?

Nothing.

So, you just continued your daily walk to the bleachers behind the school. The dress you have on today, the same as every day before, blew in the wind. Your head picked up at the sweet smell of peaches. Today was different, that smell had never been present in the thick air of Lima. You looked up as you walk up the bleachers. Your eyes widen at the scene in front of you.

Rachel Berry sat with a brown leather bound journal in her lap.

Rachel Berry!

You have never been more excited to see someone you knew in your whole life. Especially to see one Rachel Berry.

You feet seemed weighted, too heavy to run as you tried desperately to reach her. Her hair was tied back as her bangs hanged down in front of her face. The look of determination, one too familiar with Miss Berry, blanketed her face as she scribbled down in her journal. As you got closer, the smell of peaches intensified. You noticed that her eyes seemed darker than the night at competitions, her skin seemed just slightly paler. Quinn Fabray, you would never admit this to anyone but Rachel Berry was the most beautiful thing that you have seen for the longest time.

"Rachel!" The name slipped so easily out of your mouth. It was as if it was meant to be the first thing you said today.

As you stood above her, your heart began to drop that she didn't pick up her head to greet you.

Great, just great, now she won't even talk to you.

"Rachel!" You nearly scream. The petite girl didn't even budge.

With a huff you take a seat next to her, getting agitated. "Rachel, okay, I know that we haven't talked in a while and yeah, even before that we didn't get along very well but please just look at me!"

The air around you got even thicker, but she still didn't look up at you.

You began to get even more worked up. Your heart was working harder and you felt tears begin to form. You tried harder, "Rachel, please, I'm seriously sorry for calling your Man Hands. As I can see now, your hands aren't even manly. In fact they look really soft!"

Your complement went unnoticed. The Fabray temper in you has officially came out. You stand up, hovering over the girl. Over emotional you begin to yell at Rachel, "Berry! Why aren't you fucking listening to me! I need you right now. Hell, anybody! I have spent day after day locked away and no one has told me what the fuck is even going on. Why? Why aren't you LISTENING TO ME?"

Your hand slammed down on the journal in her lap causing the papers to fly about as the journal slipped out of her hands and land three bleachers down from where you guys were. Your chest rose and fell as the anger flew away with her journal because you now had a wide eyed Rachel Berry looking you dead in the eyes.

A satisfied smile landed on your lips as Rachel didn't move. You roll your eyes, "Seriously, Berry, you're acting like you've seen a ghost. Now that I got your atten.."

Before you could finish your sentence Rachel stood up, ran down the bleachers to grab her journal, and took off towards the main building.

Your eyes widen in shock that she ran away from you. The tears that had formed in your eyes began to leak out onto your cheeks, burning the soft skin that was there.

You finally get someone to notice you, to truly look you into your eyes. After so many days (way too many days), you finally felt less alone in this world. Everything was so fucked up. You never gave too much thought about why or what to do, but as you collapse on the hard, silver bleacher below you, you want to find out.

Your breaths were coming completely too fast. Your thoughts are scattered and your body is getting much more heavier.

Where was Beth? Was she alright? Was she alive? You heard her cry. You heard her.

Where was your mom and why wasn't she ever at the hospital? Was visiting your ill daughter (was she even ill) just too much on the woman who had ran out of your life once before? Is it too much to want your momma right now though? Is it too much to want her to rub your head and tell you that everything was alright?

It seemed so.

You tried to take another breathe, your body tired. It didn't come and your were met by the darkness of your eyelids as you passed out onto the bleachers.

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><p><em>I appreciate all of your thoughts. I would love to know more of your opinions. Please, review and let me know. It really is an incentive to continue to write. Also, have you checked out the other Dead Hearts fic that I am writing? I couldn't decide if I wanted Quinn to live or die, so I tried writing both. Let me know what you think of them side by side.<em>

_Also, obviously, I am still in search of a Beta._


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